


across the parking lot

by leftishark



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Parking Lot, Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 01:04:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16357658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftishark/pseuds/leftishark
Summary: They’ve circled the entire lot twice, nearly resigned to last night’s now-stale nachos, when the whole car perks up with renewed hope: the brake lights of a monstrous purple truck blink on halfway down the next row.“Okay, team,” Shiro starts. “We have 5 minutes left of the brunch special, and then it’s back to regular prices and the green goo and ham is off the menu until next week.”





	across the parking lot

**Author's Note:**

> hello, this is the first fanfiction i've written in about 12 years. parking is a terrible experience and i wanted the paladins to suffer with me. please do not try this at home.

Vrepit Sal’s is located just one exit down the highway from the group house they all moved into junior year. Unfortunately, it shares a strip mall with a Target, a Home Depot currently running a weekend sale, and a popular dim sum restaurant. 

They’ve circled the entire lot twice, nearly resigned to last night’s now-stale nachos, when the whole car perks up with renewed hope: the brake lights of a monstrous purple truck blink on halfway down the next row. 

“Okay, team,” Shiro starts. “We have 5 minutes left of the brunch special, and then it’s back to regular prices and the green goo and ham is off the menu until next week.”

“We must make it to brunch!” Allura says firmly next to him, gripping the steering wheel, eyes narrowed in determination. 

“How are we gonna get there in time?” says Hunk. “Even if we manage to get that spot, and there’s like a bajillion cars we’ll have to take out, we still have to cross half the parking lot to get to the actual restaurant—“ 

“—not to mention get through the whole wait list,” Pidge pipes up from the trunk, where she always sits because, she says, she likes the view, “and then get our orders in—”

“Maybe we would’ve had a fighting chance if some of us hadn’t slept in so late,” Lance levels at Keith, who flips Lance’s hood over his head. He shakes it off, eyes sliding to meet Shiro’s through the side view mirror. “Or, you know, _not-slept_ in—“

“Enough,” Shiro interrupts. “The situation isn’t ideal, and none of us would make it on our own. But we aren’t on our own.” They’ve all heard this speech a dozen times before; it is no less effective for its repetition. The energy in the minivan shifts, settles, focuses. “We have each other. We can do this!”

“Yeah!” shout the others. 

“Lance, you’re up first,” says Shiro. “Get us on that wait list.” He screws up his face. “Might bump us up a few spots if you’re, uh, extra nice.”

“Roger that,” says Lance with a wink, and he jumps out the back door. 

Keith slides over as the the door shuts. “He’d better not overdo it. Remember Denny’s?” 

They all share a cringe. 

Allura recovers first. “We need to keep moving,” she says and goes to signal left—but they’ve stalled for too long. Approaching them from the other direction, a Subaru is signaling to turn into the row, slowing but not stopping.

“I’ll run interference,” Pidge volunteers. She grabs every loose item in the trunk that will fit in her arms—textbooks, Cheetos, a single old sock—and hops out the back, hidden from the other car’s view. She scampers around the minivan to cross the aisle and when she’s nearly in front of the Subaru she trips dramatically, trunk detritus flying into the road. 

“Nice,” Keith approves. 

The Subaru stops. Pidge scrambles to pick up the debris, waving apologetically and too-cheerfully to the driver. Allura makes the left into the parking lot row.

They’re ten cars from the empty spot. To their left, large family wrangles Halloween decorations into an SUV; ahead, an elderly couple plods down the aisle with a cart full of groceries. Allura is pushing the boundary of safe and socially acceptable parking lot speeds. Seven cars… six… 

The couple turns to cross the aisle, lumbering into their path. Allura brakes.

“Fucking hell,” mutters Keith. 

“Hey, be nice,” says Hunk as he opens the door. “I’ve got this one.” 

They watch as he approaches the couple, their faces turning partway to the car and breaking into charmed smiles when he gestures to their cart. He pushes it cheerily, briskly, to the other side of the aisle, and the couple follows—still slow, but less so than before.

And then a sporty black convertible with garish purple flames rounds the corner at the other end of their row, entirely too fast.

“No!” cries Allura. 

“I’ll hold them off,” Shiro says nobly. There’s no chance to protest before he’s running at the convertible.

Allura slams the horn, their one long-range weapon, a too-late back off. The driver of the convertible honks back. His long pale hair flies around his face. No one should be driving fast enough to whip their hair like that in a parking lot.

“He’s not stopping!” says Allura. 

“Shiro!” yells Keith. He’s out the door in a flash. 

There’s a pedestrian walkway between the rows of cars. Keith sprints down. He launches himself onto an errant shopping cart, pitched forward and grasping the sides of the basket, one foot pushing hard at the ground behind him—he veers into the empty parking spot and shoves the cart out into the aisle between Shiro and the speeding convertible. His momentum carries him forward, feet barely keeping pace under him, until Shiro catches him, and they tumble to the asphalt as the convertible driver curses at them loudly from behind the shopping cart. 

Allura turns neatly into the parking spot.

***

They’re technically a few minutes past 1pm by the time Hunk, Allura, Shiro, and Keith straggle in and collapse into the booth, but Lance has charmed the old waitress with Kaltenecker stories and she just winks at them before taking their orders.

“Closest I’ll ever get to a Tesla,” Shiro says drily after they recount his near-death experience. 

“What an asshole,” seethes Pidge. Keith nods fervently.

“We did it, though,” says Allura as the waitress comes around with their plates. “And the parking spot has shade.”

Their trials are forgotten for the moment in favor of digging in. Brunch has never tasted so green, nor so gooey.

**Author's Note:**

> say hello on my [tumblr](http://leftistshark.tumblr.com)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Waiting Game (Parking Lot remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19223506) by [Misttiique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misttiique/pseuds/Misttiique)




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